Goodnight, Poindexter
by Dellinah
Summary: "Neither of them understood why, but whenever Stanford had a nightmare, Stanley would wake up. Even if he was in the deepest sleep there was, or even if Stanford didn't really show any signs that he was having an unpleasant dream, Stanley would wake up to help his brother." Brotherly Stan/Ford one-shot.


**While my friend Modi and I were looking at some GF comics filled with feels, I had this idea and said it'd be cool for a comic. Since I cannot draw anything I decided to make this a one-shot. My first fic for Gravity Falls ever! Also, this is dedicated to Modi. Thanks for getting me into this amazing show, love yah!**

 **In case anyone's confused: The first part is set when Stan and Ford are kids. The second one is set a few days after Ford is brought back to our dimension, but a few days before the** **weirdmageddon starts. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

There weren't many things that could wake Stanley up.

He could easily sleep through storms, through the parties that his parents forced him and Stanford to attend in those stupid and uncomfortable suits (how he managed to sleep standing up, however, was always a mystery), and even through the attacks his mother would have after drinking too much coffee - in which she would let out some weird high pitched screams and break some stuff.

Yeah, Stanley Pines could sleep through anything.

Well, almost anything.

Stanley was peacefully sleeping on his bed, which was the bottom bed of the bunker he shared with his brother Stanford, while said brother slept on the bed above his. The night was very silent, and the only noise to be heard was the soft and slow breathing of the two sleeping boys and the whistling wind outside.

Until the peaceful silence was broken by a soft whimper.

Unlike what one would expect from someone who could sleep through storms and thunders, that little sound was enough to disturb Stanley's sleep. He opened his eyes at the sound, but it took him a while to actually wake up. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up in bed and yawned; still feeling his eyelids trying to go down against his will and he wondered why he had woken up.

Everything became clear when he heard the whimpers coming from above. Stanley rubbed his eyes and lazily got himself out of his bed, barely able to keep himself up as he walked to the headboard of the bunker that connected both beds together and started to climb it up. He missed a few steps and almost fell over due to his coordination being impaired because of his interrupted sleep, but soon enough he reached Stanford's bed.

There he lay, in a fetal position, shaking and whimpering like a helpless little boy who had lost his mother at the supermarket.

Neither of them understood why, but whenever Stanford had a nightmare, Stanley would wake up. Even if he was in the deepest sleep there was, or even if Stanford didn't really show any signs that he was having an unpleasant dream, Stanley would wake up to help his brother.

"Hey, Poindexter," Stanley called as he sat on the border of Stanford's bed and poked his brother's shoulder, still so sleepy that his eyes were closed even if he was awake. "Come on, wake up. You're having a nightmare again."

Stanford's eyes shot open in shock as he bolted upright in bed and let out a scream. It was enough to startle Stanley, for his eyes widened and he fell off the bunker and hit the ground with a thud. Stanford panted and shook his head to come back to reality, quickly looking down and gasping when he noticed what had happened.

"Stanley!" He kicked his blanket away from him and jumped off his bed, landing perfectly on his feet by his brother's side. Stanley was lying on the floor, groaning in pain from his fall. Stanford immediately helped him to stand up by taking his hand and pulling him up. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Stanley replied as he shook his head so that his dizziness would go away. "I was just trying to wake you up. I think you were having another nightmare." Stanley rubbed his eyes and went back to his bed to go back to sleep, like they always did after he stopped Stanford's nightmares. He covered himself with a blanket and yawned. "Well, I guess you're fine now. Goodnight, Poindexter."

Stanley closed his eyes, but he opened them again shortly after when he realized he wasn't hearing the sound of Stanford climbing back to his bed. Indeed, Stanford stood still in front of Stanley's bed. He had a frown on his face and hid his hands behind his back as he blushed slightly, almost as if he was ashamed of something.

"What's wrong, buddy?" Stanley asked when he noticed his brother's uneasiness, sitting up on his elbows.

Stanford looked to the side, embarrassed, before looking down at his brother.

"Can you sleep with me tonight?"

Stanley didn't say anything. He just smiled and nodded; getting out of bed once more as he held his pillow on his arms. Stanford gave a relieved smiled and climbed up to his bed. Once he was up there, Stanley threw his pillow up and Stanford grabbed it as Stanley made his way to the upper bed. Stanford playfully threw the pillow at Stanley, who managed to be fast enough and grab it just before it could hit his face. Both boys laughed at that as they made themselves comfortable in Stanford's bed, getting ready to get some more sleep.

They lay down side by side, both of them falling asleep almost immediately.

However, just before he could doze off, Stanley opened his eyes again. "What did you dream about?"

There was never a reply from Sanford, so that let Stanley know that Stanford still wasn't willing to talk about that particular nightmare he had at least once a month; the one nightmare that would scare him enough to ask his brother to sleep with him every time he had it because he was afraid. Stanley just nodded and reached for the blanket to cover them both, doing his best to ignore his curiosity.

"Alright, then." He smiled. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to yet. Goodnight, Poindexter."

"Goodnight, Stanley." Ford replied with a smile.

After that, there were no more nightmares for the rest of the night.

* * *

Stan rolled on his bed several times, trying to go back to sleep but failing. His bed was comfortable, the night was quiet and the surroundings couldn't be more pleasant; the weather was perfect and there were no bugs around.

Still, he couldn't sleep.

For being a heavy sleeper, Stan never woke up in the middle of the night like that; unless the Mystery Shack was on fire or one of the kids was calling him. But that night, he had awoken without any reason at all; and now he couldn't fall asleep again.

Frustrated, Stan grunted and left his bed, dragging his tired body all the way to the kitchen. He had always heard that drinking warm milk could help one fall asleep, and now it was time to try that.

However, as soon as he left his room and got to the hallway, he noticed that the kitchen lights were on. At first he thought that someone had forgotten to turn them off, but when he felt the smell of fresh coffee coming from there he knew that there was someone there.

Still with his eyelids heavy, Stan kept on walking until he finally got to the doorway of the kitchen. He expected to find one of the kids or even Soos there as they often stayed awake at odd hours, but his eyes widened in surprise and he tilted his head in confusion when he saw Ford in the kitchen.

Ford was sitting on the table, staring at the mug of coffee he had in front of him as if it was the most interesting thing ever. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he was so tired that he didn't even seem to notice Stan was there.

"Ford?"

Ford stirred as he looked at the door as that call had surprised him, but he soon sighed in relief and pinched the bridge of his nose when he realized it was just his brother.

"Hey." Ford replied with a raspy voice, rubbing his head as if he had a headache.

Stan shrugged and walked up to the fridge, grabbing the box of milk and a cup before walking up to the table and sitting across his brother. The tension in the room was beyond obvious, and for a good handful of minutes none of them said anything.

"Are you alright?" Stan asked at last; not only because the silence there was driving him crazy, but also because those words were locking up his throat for too long now.

Ford seemed surprised at his brother's question, but just shrugged it off as he took another sip of his coffee. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Stan couldn't help but notice that Ford had avoided the question. "I don't know, maybe because it's almost three in the morning and you're up here in the kitchen instead of being down there sleeping."

"You're awake, too. I could ask you the same question." Ford said; skating his fingers on the border of his warm mug, never making eye contact with Stan.

Stan shrugged. "I don't know. I was sleeping and then I woke up, out of nowhere and for no reason at all. That hadn't happened ever since when we were kids and you had those…" He trailed off when realization hit him.

"Ford, you had a nightmare, didn't you?"

Ford tapped his fingers on the table and bit his lips, looking down the whole time.

"It's just a coincidence. It's not like you and I were connected in a way that allowed you to 'feel' it and wake up whenever I have a nightmare, Stanley. Even as kids, it's just a coincidence and nothing more."

"Well, it did work when we were kids, and that was the only reason I ever woke up without a reason, like now." Stan shrugged again.

Ford's response was a groan.

"You did have a nightmare today, didn't you?"

Stan smiled at his brother's lack of reply, knowing that that meant Ford didn't want to admit that he did have a nightmare, but he also didn't want to lie about it. Satisfied with his little victory, Stan stood up and put his glass in the sink; proceeding to walk toward the door to leave the kitchen.

"Well, goodnight. See you tomorrow. Maybe, if you leave the basement for once. Anyway, goodnight." Stan said as he waved goodbye.

Ford bit his lower lip and clenched his fists, closing his eyes in anger. He took a deep breath and stood up right before Stan could leave the room, but he remained by the table.

"Stanley." He called, looking to the side and hiding his hands behind his back.

Stan looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at his brother.

"Do you mind… I mean, can you…" Ford seemed to be trying his best to say something, but it was almost like the words tasted like poison in his mouth. After a few failed tries, he let his arms fall to the side of his body and looked ahead, his eyes meeting Stan's.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?"

Stan's jaw dropped open in surprise. Ford sighed and folded his arms over his chest, immediately regretting his question and feeling like Stan was going to give a negative answer just to have the pleasure of turning his brother down.

Stan smiled at that. Ever since Ford was back, it was the closest he had gotten to his brother; even if it was an awkward situation. But Stan knew that if he questioned something, anything; Ford would shut him away again and go back to the basement.

"Sure." Stan replied. Ford's frown became a naïve confused face. "Go get your pillow and blanket down there while I prepare a mattress for you in my room, alright?"

Ford slightly nodded, blinking with a thoughtful face as he went to the basement. Ford wouldn't have let Stan sleep with him if their roles were reversed, and that got him thinking. But soon that thinking became emotion, and Ford shook his head to get rid of them. He simply grabbed his blanket and pillow and walked up to Stan's room as if that was something they did everyday.

When he got there, Stan was sleeping on the mattress on the floor rather than sleeping on the bed that was going to be his until the end of summer. Ford felt a sour taste in his mouth when he thought that if roles were reversed, once again that was something he wouldn't give up for Stan. Especially after what he did thirty years before.

"You can have the bed." Ford uttered, not entirely sure as to why he was saying that. It was his house, his bed, his life. If anything, Stan should be sleeping on the floor. Even an old mattress was way too good for him.

"It's alright, Ford." Stan replied without opening his eyes, but sighing. "This is your house after all. And I suppose you'll go back to the basement tomorrow, so it's just for one night anyway."

Ford clutched his pillow and sighed, slouching down on the bed and hoping he would fall asleep fast. He did feel ridiculous for needing someone to sleep by his side after a simple nightmare; after all, he was an adult who could take care of himself.

But the thought of sleeping alone every time he had that awful dream where his brother Stan died scared him to death.

Ford looked at Stan sleeping on the floor one last time before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, as if to make sure he was there and alive, unlike what happened in his dream. He felt warm inside, and it was weird. Maybe he should go see a doctor.

"Goodnight, Poindexter." Stan said, surprising Ford who thought his brother had fallen asleep already.

Ford hesitated, but gave a small smiled and buried his face in his pillow.

"Goodnight, Stan."

And after that, they fell asleep peacefully.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :)**


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